


needed to be stopped

by sims2bellaswan



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Attempted Murder, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death Threats, F/M, Kidnapping, POV Female Character, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Violence, deTECTIVE READER, dhmu, uhhhhh, when i say dead dove i mean dead dove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sims2bellaswan/pseuds/sims2bellaswan
Summary: A detective assigned to a case surrounding the disappearances of children at Fazbear's Entertainment locations goes missing herself.
Relationships: William Afton | Dave Miller/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	needed to be stopped

**Author's Note:**

> the worse part is that im completely sober while writing this.

You don't remember falling asleep. Nor, do you remember being locked in some grungy backroom of a condemned restaurant. The most you remember is rummaging a bit too close to the danger and a stiff pain at the back of your head. 

Ah. There it was. You groaned and tried to grab the base of your skull, a solid attempt at stifling the sharp jab of pain, only to find your wrists tightly bound to a cold, metal table. As if out of nowhere, the rope burn on your wrists torn through the skin.

The room was dark, smelled of wet concrete, rust and the distinct scent of rotting meat. Your pants were slightly damp from the humidity, from your sweat, from just the general dankness of your area. Small lights gently flickered as you looked around, you couldn’t make out what they were attached to, though. It’s dark, darker than you feel like you've ever experienced before. Windows were blacked out and boarded up, giving you no real way to tell time here. You had no idea how long you’d been here. You have no idea how much longer until you’ll be saved. Surely someone on the force must notice your absence: your partner, the commissioner, anyone. 

The cases you were assigned to were relatively public. A bunch of dead kids, all missing after going to a local family restaurant. The restaurant gets shut down, people wanna know what happened to their kids. You were told to find the kids. You got too close to it all; found one too many rotting corpses in metal suits, stuck your flashlight in one too many nasty ass restaurants. God, you can’t remember what happened after that. 

Your next thoughts went to escape. If you weren’t going to be saved in the next five minutes, you might as well save yourself and get the headline in Sunday’s paper. The table shook and rumbled as you tried pulling the rope free of its leg. Another brittle groan escaped your throat, the table was practically welded to the floor. You took a moment, breathing in through your nose and out your mouth, cringing at the smell. 

You climbed up on to the table, metal stinging at what you found to be rips in your slacks at the calves. Hands compromised by the rope, you felt better up there than on the damp floor. You tried your best to pull yourself up as much as you could, stopping when the rope stung your arms. In your efforts, items were knocked over. Not that you could tell what they were in the dark, you assumed they were tools or something of that sort. Your actions stuttered at each noise, fear bubbled into thoughts that your captor would hear it and decide to investigate. 

You lay uncomfortably on the table, attempting to sleep off the various pains. Time passed, but you still couldn’t determine how much. 

The sound of keys jingling and an accented, husky voice woke you up. Then, the sound of the door opening and slamming shut made you jump. The flashlight is what really brought you to consciousness, aimed directly at your eyes. The figure flicked the lightswitch by the door, the derelict bulb twitched to life before casting a disgusting yellow light along the room. You took this moment to survey the entire room and yourself as quickly as you could.  
Your clothing was worse than you thought. Slacks were practically shred, your button up was hanging onto your bust by two, weak buttons. Bruises littered your arms and legs, not to mention the dark purple forming under the rope. 

The room was even worse than you thought. Black mold crawled along the walls. Tools were strewn across the floor, but that was mostly your fault. The flickering lights you noted in the dark were the eyes of several worn-out animatronics, the ones you had to investigate. The sickly lighting showed who you assumed your captor was as well, a thin, tall man wearing clothes far too big for him and a hunting knife on his belt. A common sight in a normal circumstance, at least in this town, but it terrified you now. You pulled away, as far as your bounds would allow, spatting nonsensical curses at him. The back of your legs hit something, another animatronic, this one near rotting and face missing. You pulled your legs close to your chest, continuously babbling how you’d “arrest him, for good” and how he’d “rot in prison for the rest of his life”. He shushed you, telling you that you wouldn’t get the chance, not after what he’d do to you. 

You began trembling on the table. The cool metal only served as more reason for your body to freeze and shake. Your captor moved forward, pushing the keys deep into his pocket. He spoke on and on about how your investigations were in vain, he’d be fleeing the state after he berid of you. You were a useless cog in a machine that was far from catching him, he’d sooner rot in a shallow grave than prison. He’d use you for exactly what you were good for: an example. You kicked your legs in his general direction, screaming and angrily sobbing your throat dry. He simply stepped back, waited for the perfect moment to grab your leg and pull you closer. 

An involuntary scream fled your throat as your wrist dislocated under the pressure, which began a swift cycle of drifting in and out of consciousness. No more helpful was the tight grip on your weak ankle, but it stopped your kicking. You panted as you regained full consciousness, attempted to forget about the dull, terrible pain in your wrist. You focused, instead, on the man’s actions. 

His knife was in his hand. It was swift and quick, he stabbed you in the meat of your thigh, pulling it out as you screamed, again. Blood pooled at your pants. His knife flipped in his hand, pushing the warm, wet blade against your neck. Everything he did seemed so fast in your hazy vision, your ears barely picked up his muttering about the example he’d make of you. How you’d make the Sunday paper not for being a hero, but the tragic death of a would-be heroic cop. Your eyelids weighed down as you watched him unbuckle his belt and start to undo your pants with his free hand, blade pressing dangerously closer to the hard part of your throat. His actions confused you beyond belief, why didn’t he just kill you? Honestly, you wished he would just do it, the pain was unbearable. 

You passed out soon after your train of thought landed at the conclusion that he would eventually kill you. You woke back up when the man slapped the hell out of your face. It stung, would surely bruise. He growled at you to stay awake, then the blade returned to your throat. 

The next sensation was one completely of its own. A plunging heat straight at your core, which continuously thrusted in and out of you. You recognized this as his cock, the sensation was him forcing himself into you. You, naturally, screamed. Your throat was beyond raw at this point, it burned to swallow and you could taste metal. His free hand hastily ripped at the buttons of your shirt, ripping it free of your chest. He, with that same urgency, left bites and hickeys at your neck and chest. The bites drew blood, you could feel it mingle with his saliva. The hickeys felt more like burns where he left them and you tried to wriggle free of his mouth. Everything was going so fast you could hardly keep up: his cock hitting your cervix painfully, bites began heavily bleeding, even heavier was the blood pooling at your leg. Your wrist was throbbing. Every single movement he made caused more and more pain, which caused whimpers and sobs and screams. You think he hated when you whimpered the most. His gruff voice spat insults at you, calling you a stupid child when you cried. 

There was no pleasure to be found in this interaction, your body responded purely out of instinct. So, when his thumb pressed into your clit, you moaned and practically spasmed. His pace quickened before he leaned down to bite your nipple. Then it slowed as you felt his cock twitch inside you. 

You panicked, he can’t cum inside you. If he did, that would imply he was going to keep you around as some sort of breeding cow. The implications of him not cumming inside you were equally scary: he’d kill you right then and there. 

Instead, he surprised you. He pulled his dripping dick out your pussy and grabbed a handful of your hair. He pulled you as close as he could, before plunging into your mouth. It took one full push, hit the back of your throat and caused you to gag on his cock, before he came. He ordered you to swallow and you obeyed, fearing what lay in store for disobedience. You were held there for a moment too long, nose pushed against his skin. You started to kick and wriggle and writhe in a an attempt to release yourself, then, satisfied with watching you struggle under your injuries, your head was released. 

Exhaustion took over and you fell into the lap of the rotting animatronic on the table. Chests heaved in tandem, the smell of sweat and sex mingled with the more common scents of mold and rotting flesh. Not pleasant. The hunting knife was swiftly bolstered back at his side. And, in one last effort to inch you towards death, he rammed his elbow into your exposed ribcage. You let out a wailing sob, cracking voice broke the silence between the two of you. You twitched, shook in pain in the lap of the metallic skeleton. The man left you behind, flicking the light off and locking the door as he left. 

You were kept here for a long while, or what felt a long while. You lived through a constant cycle of injury, forced sex and a strange recovery period. The man, who you eventually learned to be the prime suspect, William Afton, would find you after with a first aid box in hand. He would reset your dislocated joints, splinter your broken bones, bandage your wounds. This cycle exhausted you. You had no idea how to fight back anymore. Every interaction only brought more confusion and pain. 

Eventually, you were allowed to be untied from the table. You could walk around the room. You never were allowed to leave the room. William would come in whenever he pleased now, beat you inches to death and fuck the life out of you. Eventually, you gave up trying to escape. This is your life now.


End file.
